Someone To Understand: The Lost Years
by Sallywags
Summary: What happened after Hogwarts, after Halloween 1981 and in the summers between the school years after 1991? Filling in the gaps of the story of Crystal, Srius and co. Series of one shots.
1. Remus' Life: Halloween 1981

**Someone To Understand: Remus' Life: October 1981**

**Disclaimer: Sadly I own nothing except any OCs, so please don't sue!**

**During Voldemort's rise to power we know that the Potter's weren't the only family he targeted, but how much do we really know about Remus' past? Part of my mostly unwritten Harry Potter universe.**

**This isn't from Sirius or Crystal's POV, but it is from the same universe and will help you to understand where the rest of the fic may be going. Give it a try, you may not like it, but it does explain a few things. If not the next fic (chapter) is more focused on Crystal, though seen through Remus' eyes.**

**I will do some actual chapter soon, hope this ties you over until then!**

**Warning: Contains slight bad language, mentions of murder, death and some torture.**

"Don't panic! DON'T PANIC!" The thoughts echoed through the young brunette's head futilely as she raced into her bedroom to find her sleeping baby daughter. But why the hell shouldn't she panic? They were coming to kill her and her baby and there was nothing that she could do to stop them!

Death Eaters. They had invaded her house and she was all alone, defenceless, with only her two-week-old daughter for company. What could she possibly do against agents of the Dark Lord? Her husband was away, on business for the Order and wouldn't be back before dawn, far too late to do anything to help her, and the Death Eaters had been thorough, putting up anti apparition wards and cutting off the floo before she was even aware that she was under attack…But she was only twenty for Merlin's sake! That was far too young to die! And Merlin… her daughter, if she didn't act fast her darling daughter would be killed before she even had a chance to live!

They had thought they were safe here, they were wrong. This little house deep in the heart of muggle Lancaster was to be the perfect hide out, no one but their closest friends knew of it. Here they were just another anonymous part of the population, how on earth had they been found? How could the Dark Lord have discovered them? They knew they were in danger, like most of their friends, the Potter's, the Longbottom's, the list went on an on. So many were dying, and they had taken every precaution so how? There must have been a spy, someone leaking information like they had suspected! But how could one of their closest friends betray them? How could they condemn an innocent child to death? She was another matter, she had chosen this path knowing full well where it could lead, but her daughter was innocent, too young to make the choice yet. She had done nothing, yet she would share her fate, it wasn't fair, who ever had sold them out had not known about her, but still, that would not change anything when they killed her….

She knew why they had come. All of the Potter's friends were being targeted in an effort to flush them out of hiding, find them before the fidelius charm could be cast…And she and her husband had themselves amassed many enemies…They had been waiting for this to happen for months. They thought they had been prepared, thought they could escape, but apparently fate had other plans…

She could hear them downstairs, smashing furniture with 'reducto' curses, searching everywhere they could for her. She was terrified, paralysed with fear as she cuddled her daughter's bassinet to her chest; silent tears of pure unadulterated fear coursing down her lightly tanned cheeks as she silently tried to hush the distressed infant. They were coming closer. It could only be a matter of time until they were discovered, and then…terrified Aimee squeezed her eyes shut against the brutal onslaught of images of death that threatened to overwhelm her young mind. She had to do something! Find some way to save her daughter! She would not show them her fear! She would not sit here cowering in a ball in the corner of her bedroom waiting for them to kill her; she would die on her feet, defiant to the last, like her parents…

She shook off that thought, now really wasn't the time for nostalgia… Her parents had been aurors, her mother for the French Ministry, her father for the English, and they had been killed a matter of months ago by Voldemort… He had arrived at their house, much the same as the Death Eaters here, and killed them in cold blood… But Aimee couldn't afford to think about that now! She had to act!

Rushing around the room with the baby, she reached the window, wondering if she might escape that way but it was no good, the garden bellow was positively swarming with Death Eaters; they would never get out alive that way.

Turning away from the window in defeat she suddenly heard a strange sound, what was that! A peal of high cold laughter that made her blood run cold and seemed to have almost the same effect on her insides as dementors suddenly echoed ominously through the once calm night. VOLDEMORT. But what the hell was he doing here? Surely she wasn't important enough to kill personally…unless. "Oh shit!" She cursed inwardly, clutching the bassinet tighter to her chest, he must have come here looking to torture information out of her about the Potters!

But she could still save her daughter! Some how she had to, they had come too far to let her die now! They had always known that she would be a target, and with rumours of a spy within the Order of the Phoenix itself they had been completely paranoid about protecting their daughter. No one except her husband and the healer had known that she was pregnant. She had used glamours to hide the condition from friends, though she suspected that Dumbledore knew, and then she had gone into hiding, a not wholly unexpected event considering that both herself and her husband's parents had been killed within the last few months whilst herself and her husband were well known to be high targets on Voldemort's most wanted list, so the move looked prudent, if somewhat cowardly. So there was still hope, Voldemort knew nothing of Anne, perhaps if she could hide her … She had to believe that there was a way for Anne to survive!

Seizing her frightened daughter's bassinet Aimee prepared to do what she had to to save her. Pushing the bassinet into the wardrobe, she closed the door, putting a silencing charm on the whole thing to deaden the possible sounds of her daughter's tears and set about removing every baby related object from sight, they had most of the baby things up in this room anyway, so maybe it would be enough? She could only hope that it was…

Barricading the door as best she could Aimee then waited to face her destiny, praying to every deity that she could think of to protect her daughter and willing herself not to break down, she had to do this, some how she would have to. She could not afford to give anything away, even if the cost was her life…She suspected it probably would be.

Preparing herself for the inevitable as she heard the Death Eater footsteps get closer she could not help but think back on everything that had brought her to this point, her darling husband Remus. She would never see him again…But maybe, just maybe, if this worked her daughter would.

She remembered the first time she had ever talked to him. It had been 5th year and they had both been made prefects, him for Gryffindor, her for Ravenclaw. Of course she had already known who he was, who in Hogwarts hadn't heard of the infamous Marauders? But she had never really spoken to any of them before, despite having had at least a couple of classes with them every year since 1st year.

_Flashback_

"_Is this seat taken?" Asked a friendly masculine voice._

"_No not at all." Replied Aimee with a smile her voice tinged with the slight French accent picked up from her mother, putting down her new Transfiguration textbook to glance at the new comer. She was met with intense warm almost amber coloured eyes. It was Remus Lupin. _

"_Well this is a surprise!" she thought sardonically, how exactly had one of the Marauders been made a prefect? Intellectually she knew that with only four 5th year Gryffindor boys, all of whom were Marauders one of them would have to be a prefect, and Remus, the most responsible of them was the obvious choice, but seeing a Marauder in the prefects compartment of the Hogwarts Express was certainly a novelty considering what they usually did to prefects!_

"_I'm Remus Lupin." He introduced himself politely, raking a hand nervously through his longish sandy coloured hair, much to Aimee's amusement, as if she didn't know who he was! The whole school knew the Marauders!_

"_I know." Admitted Aimee raising an eyebrow in amusement and inwardly laughing at his slightly sheepish expression, "Aimee Parker." She introduced herself, finally relenting, after all, it wasn't his fault that his friends were idiots._

"_Pleasure." He smiled, cocking his head to the side before continuing, "Happen to know when this prefect meeting is supposed to start?" He questioned, "I said I'd meet the guys for lunch." He admitted, lowering his eyes in a slightly defensive movement._

"_Should be soon I think." Returned Aimee thoughtfully, flicking her long chestnut curls over her shoulder, "As soon as the new head girl and boy get here." She continued, looking at Remus somewhat thoughtfully, he was much more nervous without his friends, and somewhat more vulnerable than she had expected. Interesting…_

_Just then the compartment opened to reveal the new Head Boy and Girl, Steven Parkinson of Slytherin and Lucy Peters of Hufflepuff, a muggle born, to say that they did not look happy about working together would have been an understatement Steven had not stopped glowering at anyone foolish enough to catch his cold grey eyes since he had entered the compartment and Lucy's normally warm hazel eyes were radiating absolute fury at the situation, the tension between the two was palpable._

"_Somehow I don't think those two like each other too much." Whispered Remus dryly._

"_Ya think!" Muttered Aimee sarcastically, looking at Remus incredulously, that had to be the understatement of the century!_

_He shrugged apologetically, "Should make prefect meetings interesting though!" He laughed quietly, causing Aimee to giggle too, he did have a point! They spent the rest of the meeting talking in whispers and laughing at the Head students predicament, it turned out that the two had a similarly twisted sense of humour._

_After the Head students' 'welcoming' speech to the prefects was over they were able leave and rejoin their friends, but before she could go, Remus grabbed her arm, pulling her round to face him._

_Puzzled Aimee waited for Remus to explain, but all he said was, "Don't drink the pumpkin juice at breakfast tomorrow." Before sweeping out of the compartment without another word. It was very odd._

_But Aimee did as he suggested, and the next day, when every other prefect found themselves sprouting feathers she was very glad that she had listened. She hated being pranked, it was soo humiliating!_

_End Flashback_

They had spent the rest of that year making jokes at the head students' expense and laughing with each other during prefect meetings. They enjoyed each other's company, and that wasn't the last time he gave her a heads up on one of the Marauders upcoming pranks, realising how much she disliked being subjected to them. They got even closer as they got older, and even after deducing his werewolf secret she didn't abandon him. She was falling for him a little more with each passing year, it was so gradual that neither saw it coming, but by 7th year and graduation they were well and truly together. But now it was all about to end…

With a mighty 'bang' the barricade of furniture exploded away from the door, she could only imagine how terrified poor Anne must be right now, but she knew that she couldn't afford to let that distract her right now, she had to be strong. She could not let them know that Anne was in the room or else they would most certainly kill her too. Shielding her eyes from the splinters Aimee rose to see a dark shadow entering the room, wand aloft and ready to strike. VOLDEMORT.

She felt like running, screaming, cowering, begging, anything to escape this nightmare, but she couldn't, **wouldn't** let him win, so, she held her wand stiffly in an attack posture and raised her chin defiantly looking straight into the inhumanly black eyes of the most evil wizard in a hundred years, a man who fully intended to kill her. She had no intention of showing him any weakness.

Taking in her defiant stance Voldemort began to laugh as a half dozen Death Eaters took up a defensive stance behind him forming a semi circle around their defenceless quarry Aimee. Knowing that she would probably not go down without a fight.

"Do you honestly believe that you can stand against me child?" He laughed maliciously. "You are quite alone, there is no one here to save you, no one who can hear you scream." He crooned, stepping into her personal space and trailing one long pale finger down her lightly tanned cheek in a mockery of a lover's caress.

Aimee wanted desperately to run, wanted him to stop touching her, but what could she do? She was trapped and she knew it, so she didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't give any indication that she was afraid of him though she was fighting to keep from shaking in terror.

"You don't answer me girl, that is very foolish." He snapped, in irritation, grasping her chin so tightly that Aimee could already feel a bruise forming, which she tried desperately not to moan in pain from.

"What exactly do you want me to say?" Snapped Aimee, trying to keep any quaver of fear out of her voice as she put on an attitude of bravada.

"I think you know my dear." Intoned Voldemort mockingly, the Death Eaters behind him snickering in anticipation of what was to come.

"Enlighten me!" Retorted Aimee sarcastically, frantically wondering if she could stall him long enough for someone to realise what was happening and send up the alarm, though realising at the same time that such thoughts were futile. There was no hope left for her and she knew it.

"My my, such courage, such defiance in one so young!" He taunted, "Your parents had it too but I broke even them in the end." Smiling maliciously he continued, "Defiance won't save you child! Now tell me what I want to know." He sniped angrily; clearly her lack of fear was beginning to irritate him.

"Never." Returned Aimee coolly, trying to steel her courage for what she knew must now come, fearing that at any moment Anne would be discovered.

"Crucio!" Shouted Voldemort cruelly, his frustration obvious, as Aimee dropped to the floor writhing in silent agony, loosing her grip on her wand, causing her to drop it with a clatter, teeth biting into her lip so hard that they drew blood as she prevented herself from screaming.

After five minutes of Aimee's stifled screaming Voldemort ended the curse, "Enough of this," he smiled, "tell me where the Potters are and this can all be over." He reasoned.

"Why do you even think I know?" Sputtered Aimee pathetically from her new position of the floor at Voldemort's feet her defiant posture reduced to merely glaring at him, intense green hazel eyes glittering with fury, but also, despair that she knew he would be able to pick up on, but could not prevent from shining through. She would die this night and there was nothing she could do to stop it, she had barely begun to live yet, and already her life was over.

"Don't lie to me girl, you know, I know you do! Crucio!" He shouted angrily, causing Aimee to convulse yet again in agony. This time she had not been prepared and could not prevent herself from screaming in agony. Inwardly she was panicking, how did he know that she knew where the Potters were? How had they known that she would be alone tonight? It looked as though there really was a spy in the Order, as only someone from the Order could have known that she was privy to that information and that Remus would be on a mission tonight, but who? Well, it was safe to say that she would never find out…

The only reason that Voldemort had yet to discover where Lily and James were was because of Aimee's training in Occlumency, he hadn't yet been able to break through her mental shields, but that wouldn't last long, she had to bury all thoughts of the Potters to somewhere he would never look for them, she herself had to forget, it was the only way to protect her friends and their baby.

Suddenly the pain stopped and Aimee was able to stop screaming, she was still shaking, her abused muscles practically buzzing with pain but she showed no weakness, she knew what he would try next, and she had to be ready…

"Imperio!" Oozed Voldemort calmly, clearly believing that his victory was now assured.

Aimee's head was swimming; it felt like she was floating, nothing mattered. She tried to fight but she was too weak, and it was hopeless to resist the voice, there was only peace, and that persistent voice in her ear whispering soft sweet words and asking where the Potters were, she should tell it, if only she could remember herself…

"Where are the Potters?" The voice asked, becoming more insistent.

Aimee scrunched up her face in confusion, trying desperately to remember, but she couldn't the information was gone. "I don't know." She admitted quietly.

"Where are the Potters?" Screamed the voice, loosing its patience with Aimee.

"I don't know!" She screamed in fear, snapping suddenly out from the curse, able to once again think clearly, her plan had worked! But now that he thought she didn't know he had no reason to keep her alive.

"She doesn't know Master. If she did she would have told you under the Imperious curse." Concluded one of the masked Death Eaters, "What should we do with her now?" he questioned nervously.

"If she doesn't know then she's no use to me." Voldemort sneered at the clearly terrified Aimee as she struggled at his feet, "She can serve as a reminder to the Order that standing against me is suicide. Let us see how Dumbledore likes us playing with his pets. Goodnight child, say hello to your parents for me. " With this he turned as if to walk away, before turning back from the doorway and speaking the last two words that Aimee would ever hear, "Avada Kedavra!"

With that a horrific green light went streaming straight for Aimee, she knew that this was the end, she had been right, she would not live to see morning or Remus ever again. She only wished that she could hold her daughter again just once more, see her husband's beautiful warm amber eyes, share one last kiss, but it was to late… In life there are no happy endings, she only prayed that her daughter's life might be better than her own as she mourned for the young woman that she would never get to see. Her last thoughts were of her family as that evil green light hit home, and Aimee's soul was forced out of her body as, unbeknownst to all a baby saw her mother's last breath through a small gap in the wardrobe's doors.

With nothing left to be done at the house the Death Eaters stayed only long enough to send the Dark Mark up into the sky as a warning to the Order of the Phoenix and the people of the wizarding world the price for siding against Voldemort. They were not there when Aimee's silencing charm began to fail, and the anguished screams of a motherless child began to be heard…

XXX

Remus Lupin was having an awful night, comparable almost to the night of the full moon in its tedium and frustration's.

He had spent the whole night staking out a particularly dodgy part of London looking for signs of a Death Eater base of operations with Sirius. It had been a complete disaster, they had seen absolutely nothing, leading them both to believe that their intelligence on the situation must have been flawed, that or someone wanted to send them on a wild goose chase.

But the situation had been made worse by the two former friends' animosity towards each other. Remus knew that Sirius suspected, or at least 'said' he suspected that Remus was the spy within the Order, and Remus for his part believed that Sirius was the spy, out to discredit him in an attempt to help Voldemort. This meant that the two were not At all comfortable in each other's presence, were in fact mutually suspicious of each other, leading to a mutually paranoid evening all round. Definitely not fun.

Raking his hands through his long sandy locks Remus sighed, how had it ever come to this? Time was he and Sirius were inseparable, best friends, all the Marauders were, but now… They'd just, grown up, and grown apart.

It had all started in 6th year with Sirius' obsession with Crystal Maycomb, a girl who, quite frankly Remus and the other Marauders did not trust. She was a pure blood, not a Slytherin, but close enough and she and Sirius had so many secrets together, things that they refused point blank to talk about with the Marauders. She was being bullied by Slytherins, but no one but Sirius understood why, the whole situation made no sense! It was so frustrating, and brought into play a side of Sirius that the other Marauders had been ignorant of before, they suddenly realised how jaded and cold their happy go lucky friend really was, and for Remus at least it was beginning to bring into question Sirius' loyalty, just what else was he hiding from them? Was he really as different from his family as he claimed?

Then came the clincher. Sirius betrayed him. He told Snape how to get inside the Shrieking Shack, apparently not caring that he was betraying his friend in the process. James had managed to save Snape, and Dumbledore had then sworn him to secrecy, but to Remus the damage was already done. Sirius had fully intended to kill Snape and had apparently thought nothing of getting his friend to do his dirty work for him. Sirius had been ready to effectively kill a man in cold blood, what kind of man could possibly do that? Remus could not even imagine what could have possessed his friend to do such a thing, or what kind of darkness had to exist in his soul to make him capable of it. Had he truly been so blind to Sirius true nature all along? Or was there more to that situation than Remus knew? To this day he wasn't sure, and Sirius had not helped matters, by always point blank refusing to talk about it. Perhaps the Marauders had always just been too fundamentally different to get on, and it had just taken until almost adulthood for these differences to surface, they did, after all, come from very different backgrounds, it was a wonder really that they had ever gotten along.

In the end though, it didn't matter, Sirius had betrayed his trust, and though he asked forgiveness, and Remus claimed to forgive him, neither party could ever really forget what had happened. The Marauders were still the Marauders, pulling pranks and having fun, the envy of the whole school, but the spark was gone, the trust that had once existed between the four was no more, it was never as it had been and the group continued to drift further and further apart, all too caught up in their own individual lives and problems to even care. It was around this time that Remus knew he had not helped his own case, withdrawing more and more often from the others to spend time with Aimee, James had done the same with Lily and Sirius with Crystal, no one knew what had really become of Peter in this time, he kept to himself mostly, at least Remus thought he had, truth was, none of them really knew, and had been too busy with their own lives to care.

The group had split itself apart, they had let their differences divide them and though they still hung out it just wasn't the same. The girls didn't help matters either, none of them particularly got on together, so, as they got older, left school, and got married the distance increased, to the superficial eye everything was fine, but if you looked beneath the surface the tension and distrust was steadily building, until they reached the present impasse, Sirius did not trust Remus, and Remus did not trust Sirius, but they said nothing, resentment festered, fear multiplied until no one knew who to trust or what to do. Then the Order had begun to suspect that one of their number was betraying them, whilst at the same time they learnt that Voldemort was coming after Lily and James' baby.

Paranoia was now rife and Remus felt himself perfectly justified in keeping Aimee's pregnancy a secret, they were all targets now, being picked off one by one, no one knew who to trust and Remus was not about to risk his child in this new and uncertain climate, so he did what he had to. He told no one and went to ground. Sirius had done much the same when he found out that Crystal was pregnant, though he did not seem to be quite as paranoid about it, people knew about his baby daughter Salena, not many, just close friends, but enough for Voldemort to have no doubt heard about it. Question was, why hadn't he attacked yet though? Did that prove that Sirius was the spy, or was Remus just being paranoid?

Shaking his head in frustration Remus tried to remove such gloomy thoughts, war bred paranoia and it wasn't healthy to get too caught up in it, "Though," he mused, "it's better to be paranoid than dead!", sighing in frustration he realised that he'd been spending too much time with Moody, the next thing he knew he would begin spouting, 'Constant Vigilance!' at every turn, a frightening thought!

Ending their last patrol of the area just before dawn he and Sirius said there good byes and Remus prepared to apparate home to see Aimee and Anne. Tomorrow night would be little Anne's first Halloween and he couldn't wait to see her pudgy little face light up with excitement when she saw all the decorations he and Aimee had bought put up all over the house. It was going to be prefect! Smiling slightly to himself he apparated, but nothing could ever have prepared him for the sight he saw on his arrival.

There were at least half a dozen aurors swarming over his front garden, a mors morde hanging ominously in the sky. His heart stopped, that mark could mean only one thing… "Aimee!" he screamed desperately, taking off towards the house as though the devil were at his heels, he had to know…

He was barely aware of the aurors trying to stop him from entering the house, he brushed them off, racing for the open front door and sprinting up the staircase towards their room in a daze.

The sight he saw once he reached the room tore out his heart… There she was, his beloved Aimee, lying unmoving in a heap on the floor. She was so pale, her previously tanned skin almost white, her usually pink lips so pale, so cold. There was blood on the floor in front of her, and dried on her lip, standing out in stark contrast to her ghostly complexion, a testament to all the pain she must have endured before they finally killed her. Her long chestnut curls fanned out on the floor around her head, as it did on her pillow when she was sleeping, but she wasn't sleeping and she was never going to get up ever again. Would never smile at him again, or kiss him, or raise an eyebrow at him in sardonic amusement, would never do anything **ever **again. She was dead…

'Dead' the word echoed in his mind till it lost all meaning, such a small word for such a big thing, 'dead', deceased, gone, never coming back, moved on, passed on….Merlin she was gone! Like his parents, like so many of his old school friends, DEAD!

Wordlessly he sank to the ground. He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, if he did then this was all real and she was really gone, and she could **not **be really gone, he couldn't live without her…

He didn't cry, couldn't, he was just numb, this wasn't real, this **couldn't** be real, she couldn't be really gone…

XXX

He was so out of it that even his enhanced werewolf senses did not register that he was not the only person in the room. Dumbledore and Moody had been off to one side talking when he came in and had seen his reaction to her body. His utter devastation at her loss was obvious. Even the gruff Moody seemed touched by the heartbreaking display, whilst Dumbledore's eyes seemingly lost some of their sparkle as he took in the scene, one former student dead and another destroyed, it seemed that Voldemort had won again.

But then a noise was heard, a pitiful wailing coming from… the ward robe? The whole room froze. Was this a Death Eater booby trap? But before anyone could stop him, Remus had run across the room and wrenched open the door to reveal…a baby.

She was wrapped up in blankets in a pink bassinet, and somehow Aimee had managed to hide her from Voldemort, it was nothing less than a miracle that she had survived, but there she was, distressed, but physically none the worse for her ordeal.

The aurors were shocked, none of them had known that there had been a baby in the house, and that this child had managed to survive when so many others hadn't was absolutely incredible.

XXX

Remus for his part was in shock. How on earth had Aimee managed to save her? She had died to protect their daughter, and it had worked and while Anne was still alive he still had some hope for the future, some reason to live and carry on fighting. He would protect his daughter with his life and give her the best life he could, her mother's sacrifice would not be in vain.

**This has basically been my version of the events surrounding and leading up to that Halloween when the Potters died, I'm well ware that the other Marauders didn't have kids, but humour me ok? I've tried to explain why Remus and Sirius each thought the other was the spy, linked in with my other fic's plotline (which will be finished!) and partly explained why Peter betrayed them, I don't believe that anyone is born evil, they're only ever pushed to it, and he had to have reasons for acting the way he did, they all have to have more reasons for their actions than what JK has told us so far, so this is my AU spin, anyway enough talk.**

**Okay now that you've read please review and tell me what you think, have I completely lost it, or did this story make some kind of sense, please tell me! It'll only take a second and I'd really like to know!**

**Thanks!**

**XXX**


	2. Living with Betrayal: August 1992

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**Someone To Understand: Living With Betrayal: August 1992**

**Disclaimer: Sadly I own nothing except any OCs, so please don't sue!**

**One shot continuing my, as yet, unfinished story. If the events in my story played out, but Peter still betrayed the Potters we might expect this kind of scene to happen when Sirius and Crystal's daughter is preparing for school, and Crystal still believes her husband to be guilty of betraying them. How would she deal with this situation, carrying on with her life when the only one who ever understood her, who she ever trusted, betrayed her? A dash of Remus thrown in because, if you read my other story, he has been widowed with a young daughter himself, so might understand, and just because I love him. (And yes I have created my own little universe, even if no one is actually reading any of it, how sad is that?)**

**I will do some actual chapters soon, hope this ties you over until then!**

It was far too early in the morning for children to be this noisy decided Remus belligerently as two screaming eleven year olds tore past him at break neck speed. One with soft chestnut curls bouncing wildly around her shoulders and her battered T-shirt, the other with dead straight midnight black hair fluttering elegantly over an expensive purple dress. He wasn't serious of course, things could have been so very different, what would his life have been like without Anne in his life? And she could so easily have perished twelve years ago, like her Mother… like so many of his dear friends had.

Shaking off his slightly morbid thoughts he returned to sipping his tea slowly. But now that he was on this track, who would have thought twelve years ago that he'd be here, of all places? The living room of Crystal Black, nee Maycomb, the wife of his former friend Sirius… How different might things have been if at the time they could have been friends? Who could ever have surmised then that they would pull each other through the confusion and pain of Halloween 1981? In two days they had each lost the love of their life, one to death, the other to betrayal left alone with two small girls barely a month different in age. They had each needed a support system, and had had practically no one else to turn to, Remus having lost essentially all of his family during the war, and Crystal being unable to trust her dark relations, though she did keep on good terms with them. She had been there to baby-sit on full moons, offer him a home cooked meal once in a while and some sympathetic adult conversation, this simple human contact had probably saved his life in the early days. Now he couldn't even imagine what his life would be without Crystal and Salena in it.

Today he had stopped by with his daughter Anne for breakfast so that the four of them could then go into Diagon Alley together, in order to buy the things that the girls would need for school (clothes and wands at least, books would have to wait). It was hard to believe that they were already old enough for Hogwarts; even harder to comprehend was that Harry, James' son was already there.

Breakfast had 'officially' ended about ten minutes ago, and now Crystal and he were leisurely finishing their tea, whilst the girls charged around the house, no doubt trying to break the dozens of priceless antiques lining the walls…

The only thing visiting Crystal never failed to do was to bring home to Remus his own very modest means. Over the years he had been forced to move dozens of times, each time to somewhere cheaper, and less elegant. He could never have afforded the casual opulence of Crystal's home, a home that the combined fortunes of the Maycombs and the Blacks, two of the oldest pureblood families, had bought. You only had to look at his patched and frayed robes to know that…On the other hand, Crystal, in her deep blue, probably designer, silk robes looked the picture of a perfect aristocrat, which of course she was, sometimes.

"So are we ready to go?" He questioned cheerily, clapping his hands together, and giving no indication of his gloomy thoughts. He couldn't exactly begrudge his friend her fortune, Merlin knew being a Black, or a Maycomb was not something to be jealous of, and frankly he had no idea how she had managed to grow up so well adjusted in such a horrible environment.

At this innocent prompting Crystal suddenly squirmed uncomfortably. "I was wondering if you could do me a favour." She requested haltingly.

Curiosity piqued Remus replied teasingly, "Well that depends on what it is."

"You couldn't take Salena to Diagon Alley could you?" She asked nervously. "To get her books and things… I can give you a purse to pay for it of course." She suggested with forced calm.

"Of course I can." Remus agreed readily, he definitely owed her enough childcare favours, "But surely you want to be there to see her get her first wand?" He suggested, a puzzled tone clear in his voice.

"I have to work unfortunately." Explained Crystal, not meeting his eyes.

Suspicious Remus asked, "Are you sure that's all it is?" In as gentle a tone as he could manage.

She looked up guiltily. This was not like Crystal, if nothing else she was an accomplished liar, this must really have been getting to her if she was this easy to read.

"No, I suppose it isn't…." She trailed off uncertainly.

A heavy silence covered the room, but Remus did nothing to break it. If he had learnt only one thing over the years it was this; Crystal would talk when she was ready and not before, the woman could be incredibly stubborn and didn't readily bare her soul. Fortunately the same could also be said about Remus, making the two perfectly suited to healing each other, both incredibly stubborn apparently even tempered people, who preferred listening to talking, and who's supposedly calm natures hid the turbulence of their thoughts and numerous fears. He sipped his tea and waited, she'd tell him eventually.

It was at times like these that it became apparent that, looks aside, Mother and daughter had little in common. If Salena had been in this situation she would either have spilled it all by now or become violently defensive, **just like** Sirius would have done. It was down right frightening just how much the daughter took after her Father. But Crystal was a different matter, she had never had Sirius' rash, devil may care attitude, she would wait it out, and so would he. If only he had known how much he had in common with this woman all those years ago. If only he had realised back then how much he would like her. If he had, would things have turned out differently, or was he, as his daughter suggested, still spending too much time dwelling on the past and things that he could never change?

Finally Crystal started to talk. "I hate myself for this, but it seems like…." She paused, searching for words, and biting her lip so hard that she should have drawn blood. "With every passing year I see more of Sirius in her…"

So that was the problem he realised, belatedly.

"And it terrifies me." She confessed brokenly. "I look at her, and I don't see my little girl, I see him. With every tilt of her head, every familiar mannerism, every roguish smile I see Sirius looking at me through her eyes." She closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath to calm herself. "She looks like him you know… People say she looks like me but I don't see it. The eye colour maybe, but the expression in those eyes, pure Sirius." She dismissed it clinically. "The straight hair that falls just so into her eyes and the sharp cheekbones, even the things she _says _are beginning to remind me of him, that little boy I first met when I was eleven… " She trailed off almost nostalgically before starting again with increased vehemence and suppressed anger, "And suddenly I'm twenty again; just figuring out that my whole marriage, everything I believed in was a lie." She shook her head, snorting with disgust at her own folly before saying, "I can't deal with that pain again, and I know it's cowardly, but I just… I can't be around her like this and I know that she senses it, has sensed it for years. I feel like I'm loosing my mind." She confessed. "Maybe some distance will help…She'll go off to school and I'll realise that she's not Sirius come back to haunt me, she's Salena, my daughter…" Again she trailed off, and he almost thought that her tirade was finished, but suddenly she continued, flicking nervously at her curly ebony locks, "But its not just him she reminds me of it…its all of them, Abbie, Regulus, Merlin even Marius!" She exclaimed violently flinging her hands up jerkily.

"I know it's hard." Soothed Remus, reaching out to grasp Crystal's perfectly manicured hand. He couldn't even imagine the pain that she lived with every day, his own was bad enough, but seeing not the people she loved in her daughter, but those she hated, even feared… He really didn't know how she had dealt with it all these years. "It will be alright you know, somehow we will eventually get passed all of this…" He tried to tell her, the problem was, he didn't really believe it.

"Maybe." She conceded, not sounding convinced. "But now I just can't help but wonder, did I only ever see what I wanted to see? Should I have seen it coming?" She continued miserably, "Did he ever really love me, or was it all an act? You know how he was before, he was so charming, and ...all those other girls, Sienna..." She trailed off, hopelessly. "I thought that they were fools for believing him, but was I really so different? Did I fall for it too? Was it all a lie?" She questioned him desperately, looking into his eyes deeply as if hoping to divine the answers she so desperately needed from them.

"I don't know." Murmured Remus tiredly, "There was a time when I would have said that the one thing I was sure of was that he loved you… But that was when I thought I knew him, to do what he did; I guess I never really knew him at all... I still don't understand." He shook his head in resignation; "You shouldn't get so caught up in the past." He finally qualified, "He fooled us all…"

"Just me most of all?" She laughed, humourlessly as he shoot her a slightly pitying and exasperated look. "That's what really gets me you know. I trusted him… I don't trust anyone. I think maybe you can understand that." He nodded in agreement; a werewolf could understand distrust all right. "But I believed him when he said that we could be free, I thought that he could save me, save us. Was it all a lie? Was he really working for Voldemort the whole time? Just the same as all the idiots we condemned? How could I have been so wrong about him?" She wondered out loud, asking herself all the questions that Remus had been asking himself for the last eleven years.

"That's a question we've all asked over the years," he agreed, thinking of her last question, "but it has been eleven years, perhaps the past should stay in the past…" He suggested sensibly, though clearly the last thing that she wanted to do was think about this sensibly.

"Perhaps the past is all I really have left." She spat bitterly.

What could he really say to that? He didn't exactly disagree. What exactly did the future hold for him except for watching Anne grow up, which was bitter sweet in itself without Aimee.

Catching his look she replied, "At least you knew that she loved you, I don't even have that…" She trailed off mournfully. Shaking her head firmly she suddenly snapped out of her melancholy nostalgia and regained her normal bitingly sarcastic wit, a wit which had only become more bitter over the years… "But when did self pity ever help anyone?" She realised, shaking her head in as self depreciating way, and squeezing Remus' hand in thanks before moving to pick up the breakfast things, the house elf being occupied watching the children. "So do you think that you could handle two hyperactive eleven year olds in Diagon Alley for a few hours?" She teased moving back to her original request.

"I'm sure that I could manage." Replied Remus gamely, glad to be away from a topic that they would probably never be able to satisfactorily explain, how could Sirius ever have betrayed them? How could Lily, James, Aimee and Peter be dead? He shook his head, he would never understand how that had happened, so moving to help her collect the dishes he did what he had been doing for the last eleven years, he shook the uncomfortable thoughts off.

"Good." She smiled warmly, moving to carry the assorted breakfast dishes into the kitchen, "I just need a little time, and then…" She trailed off, "I'm sure things will be fine." She finished unconvincingly, gazing disconnectedly out of the kitchen window as she paused in her tidying, just at the point that the two hyperactive eleven year olds in question thundered into the room like a pair of rampaging hippogriffs. They were probably wondering why they hadn't left yet, being tremendously over excited by the idea of finally getting a wand.

"Are we leaving soon?" Asked Salena eagerly, a hint of petulant childish whine audible in her voice, apparently ready to get out the big guns and use 'puppy dog eyes' if the need arose as she gazed up at him through long dark lashes. Sirius' lashes. Covering eyes positively sparkling with mischief, eyes that clearly signalled trouble. Just as Sirius' had… Shaking his head in dismay Remus realised that he was now doing exactly what Crystal was, seeing the Father in the daughter, which aside from being completely unfair was woefully unhealthy. This was Salena, not Sirius come to haunt him! He was being ridiculous, and it wasn't fair to take it out on Salena, she was just a child…practically his child.

The girls had essentially grown up together, aside from the fact that they'd been schooled separately. (Thank God for small mercies they were enough trouble at the best of times, Merlin only knew what chaos they would cause in a school but they could almost certainly give the Marauders a run for their money.) Salena had been educated with her cousin (sort of anyway, the real relationship was a little more complicated) with a tutor at Malfoy Manor, since she was going to have to learn to survive in pureblood society at some point, whilst Anne had been educated by him at home, which fit in nicely with his jobs which included marking OWL and NEWT exam papers and tutoring children in Latin, among other things. Needless to say, none of these jobs were reliable, or paid particularly well, but they were something, and certainly better than starving.

Getting back to the girls Remus replied. "Give us a minute to finish here, then we'll go." He told her calmly, showing that he was not willing to be swayed by her begging tactics. She glared at him, hoping that he would relent, but it didn't happen, perhaps in a few years her glare would be as impressive as one from either of her parents, but right now it was decidedly lacking.

Giving up on Remus and turning towards her Mother Salena seemingly scented danger. "But you're still coming with us, right Mum?" She asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry honey I have to work." Apologised Crystal, lying skilfully.

"Sure, I get it." Nodded Salena, "No big deal…." She trailed off, trying not to let her disappointment bleed into her tone, and failing, though she was putting up a valiant effort. Given a couple more years they wouldn't be able to tell what she was really feeling at all, the thought unnerved him more than a little… The girl was entirely too defensive for her own good, if Crystal didn't act soon she might loose her daughter forever, but right now…it didn't look like she was in any shape to deal with the confused and hurt young girl in front of her, a girl who desperately needed her Father... Yet another thing that Sirius had screwed up… This had the potential to get very bad, but what could he do? Neither one of them would listen to him nor would they reach out to each other, some wounds never healed, and the wound that Sirius had left in this family could not be mended with a few words from him, perhaps it would never be mended.

Looking up shyly through her curly chestnut locks Anne suddenly entered the conversation, clearly sensing her friend's distress and acting to limit it. "Come on Sal we can play Exploding Snap until they're ready. Lets go!" She gushed, grabbing Salena's hand and forcibly dragging her from the room, probably so that she and Salena could talk about what had just happened. It was just like Anne to want to protect her friend, she seemed to spend all her time watching over other people, including himself, making sure that they weren't upset, were eating properly and not getting into trouble. She could be a right Mother hen when she wanted to be! It would have been amusing, if Remus hadn't suspected that her attitude grew out of her own lack of a Mother. It all just seemed to come back to bloody Voldemort!

Upon the girls' exit of the room he and Crystal fell into a companionable silence as they finished washing the dishes (magically of course!). Though wouldn't Marius and her family have been shocked if they could see what she was doing, Maycombs did not do menial tasks like washing the dishes. He suspected that she probably took gleeful pride in flouting this instruction, hating being told what to do.

Finally the task was done and Remus moved to get the girls so that he could get this shopping expedition over with, but he stopped before he got to the door. Turning back to look at Crystal, he said, "You have to deal with her sometime." As he was suddenly struck with an awful premonition of how bad things could end up if Crystal didn't sort things out with Salena now. What would the girl grow into if she grew up believing that she was unwanted, that her Mother didn't care? Crystal wasn't a vicious person, but she wasn't a warm one either and the hurt Sirius had caused her tended to make her push people, even her daughter, further away and this could be interpreted by Salena as rejection. This would most definitely not be a good thing for the girl to feel…

"I know and I will…" She replied solemnly, catching his eyes for a moment with her glittering blue ones. Remus wished he could believe her and that things would turn out alright for her and Salena, but how could he believe in a world where everything would turn out alright when he had lost everything he had ever wanted at the age of twenty-one? When he knew categorically that with them sometimes things didn't turn out alright….

**I sit down to actually catch up with my woefully behind story, and this is what comes out instead, go figure… Well it fits in with the same universe, which is better than nothing, and I suppose now you see what I mean when I say that I have events twenty years in the future mapped out, though my plan for the next few chapters seems to have gone astray. (Guilty look I defy anyone to find anything in my room at the moment, it looks like a bomb has hit.) I also have another future one shot in the works, though don't hold your breath, I'm still wondering how AU to make this series, just marginally, or completely out there? Do any of you have any preferences?**

**I know that I've been promising updates for, (Looks at date…) has it really been a year? Sorry… But my life has just taken off a bit, what with UCAS and exams and retakes and ughhhh! Just hide me in a cave somewhere please! But like I say I haven't forgotten, and for the moment at least I'm on an editing kick for this story, if nothing else.**

**Anyway, please review! (If anyone is actually still out there!) **

**It really encourages me if I hear from you, cos if no one is actually reading this anymore then obviously I won't be in any particular hurry to write more, except for my own amusement.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Sallywags (Back from the dead!)**

**XXX**


	3. The Gulf That Separates Us: July 1994

**The Gulf That Separates Us: July 1994**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except any OCs.**

**Summary:**** For the first time in twelve years Sirius sees the wife he abandoned. What happened in the moments in between, before that difficult conversation even started?**

**Part of 'The Lost Years' series, set in July 1994 just after Sirius escapes the dementors and the Ministry at Hogwarts. Imagine he somehow found a way to reunite with the family he hasn't seen in twelve years, after all the truth has come out, at least to those who matter most, surely the first thing he'd do now is go to find them?**

**Note:**** The three stories in this series; July 1994, aren't written in the same kind of style as the other one shots but I included them because they are part of the same universe of my story 'Someone to Understand'.**

You see her and it's like Azkaban never happened.

Like those twelve nightmarish years were just a dream, a dream which you've only just now woken from.

She's just as you remember her, and yet not… So beautiful, so perfect, so lovely, and yet…so cold. Azkaban has not just touched your heart, it's touched hers too and that was your doing, your fault. You wonder absently if she'll ever forgive you, then muse how little that matters; you'll never forgive yourself.

You want to reach out and touch her, caress that silky skin and gaze into those crystalline depths. It would be so easy, the most natural thing in the world do to, and yet you can't. You lost that right a long time ago, the night you left and never came back.

So much left unsaid, so much time passed, so much water under the bridge. You're not the same anymore, neither one of you. Where once she would have welcomed your touch, now…now she'd probably flinch away…or perhaps you'd flinch from her. You're not the same man anymore than she's the same girl you last saw valiantly holding back tears in a soft white night gown as you swept out of her life for twelve whole years.

This woman before you is not that girl. She is not going to burst into tears, or demand explanations they way she would have done…the way she did. She will wait patiently for you to explain. She knows enough not to hex you on sight, but she needs answers, she deserves answers. The quaffle's in your zone, but you haven't the faintest idea where to start.

Too many half truths and secrets lie between you, you know that no matter what you say, or how you explain your part in affairs that she'll never forgive you. Perhaps she shouldn't, you left her. You swore that you were different, that you'd never leave, would never hurt her…she believed you, trusted you…and apparently you lied since you did all of that and more, abandoned her and Salena when they needed you most, and for what? What did you even achieve? Nothing, that's what, three lives destroyed and it meant nothing, except that a traitor was given the chance to escape. You could kick yourself for your stupidity, you should have seen it coming, should have seen it all, but you didn't. You were so damn arrogant, so damn sure of yourself and look what happened. Gods you couldn't have hurt her more if you'd set out too.

You should have told her the truth from the start, all those years ago. It feels like centuries have passed since then, like another life, like it happened to someone else, because here, now, knowing what you now do you don't know how you could ever have made those godawful decisions. Well they say hindsight is 20-20….

You knew you could trust her, knew unequivocally that even if everything else had gone to hell and your friends were fractured and strange and everything had gone wrong that you could still count on her. She wasn't the traitor, you knew that, and she wasn't some helpless little girl who needed your protection, in all the time you'd known her she'd never been that, and yet you hid things from her, hid the truth. You never told her the prophecy, or about the fidelius and the secret keeper change. She'd have heard about all of that after your arrest, probably from the press or that damned brother of hers. Marius always did hate you. And if only you'd told her the truth, kept her up to date, how much of this disaster could have been avoided if you had?

If she'd known the truth then she could have saved you, perhaps Peter could have been captured back then and then…or maybe things would have been worse, maybe Peter would have found out that as he seemed to find out everything else and her and Salena would have been added to the list of his victims. Which is exactly why you didn't tell her….well not exactly, you didn't know who you were protecting her from, only that there was a spy (Remus you thought), and that the less she knew the less danger she'd be in, that was the theory anyway. That and you couldn't run the risk of her being forced to tell anyone what she knew since it would have put James and Lily in yet more danger.

In trying to protect everyone, you succeeded in protecting no one. You can't know what could have happened but you recognise now that you should have told her, for all the good that does anyone. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, even if there are no shortage of bad ones in the world.

You gaze into those once so familiar cerulean eyes and try to figure out what she's thinking; you don't have a clue. You used to be able to read her like a book, it's amazing what twelve years can do for someone's mental defences, though the gods know your own were shredded by Azkaban.

She's so guarded, so poised, but then she always was, you can't say that's changed, and yet it has, because you know that before you left you'd started to break down her barriers, get her to drop her guard at least with you. But right now you might as well be strangers, whatever trust existed between the two of you it's long gone, and you can't say you blame her for that. You deserve worse, and yet this realisation kills you because even after all this time you still love her…but you can't honestly say whether she loves you or not, how could she after all this? But can you deal with the realisation that it's really over. But is it? There's still Salena…and the bond you two shared was always so strong…yet if it was so strong then why didn't she believe in your innocence? Is it so selfish to be angry, no furious, at how quick she was to believe the worst about you? Not that she didn't have reasons, she did, they all had reasons for acting the way they had done, and look how well that had turned out for everyone involved…. You know this isn't helping, you're only making things worse, but thinking dark thoughts has long been what you do best, why should that change now?

Part of you is furious with her. She left Harry to his own devices, she never checked up on him, never interfered. But did you honestly expect her to? Something that overt would never have been her style; she would never so publicly challenge Dumbledore. What was she supposed to do, take him in and raise Harry as well as Salena by herself? Sirius Black's wife, the Ministry would have never stood for it, and Dumbledore would never have allowed it. If you'd told her the prophecy perhaps things would have been different, but you never did. You always rationalised that it was James and Lily's secret to tell, and Merlin knew James never wanted her to know, but the truth is that you know they half expected you to tell her, after all it's the unwritten rule of marriage, telling a secret to your partner isn't really breaking anyone's trust.

Anyway considering her own childhood she probably wouldn't have seen that much of a problem with the Dursleys even had she known, as far as she's concerned adversity breeds endurance, strength. You can't say she's wrong about that, it's one of the reasons that Harry is so tough, and after all Harry wasn't her responsibility, he was yours. Bearing in mind what you did it is hardly surprising that the last thing she'd have been thinking of with all the other crap going on in her life would be fulfilling your obligations. She let her anger with you cloud her better judgement; let it consume her loyalty and affection for Lily, which you knew she had. She never thought highly of James, and the feeling was more than mutual, but she always respected Lily, and you know that if things had played out differently she would have adored her son, a boy who is sometimes so very like his mother that looks aside it is hard to believe he's James' son. Can you blame her for all this though? For a young boy's pain, yes you can, she was better than that, but for her reasons, no, because in the end it once again all comes back to you and your failings. You failed them both. You try not to let the thoughts consume you, there's too much else going on here for that…

You've dreamed of this moment for twelve years. Every night it was her face you fell asleep dreaming of, it was her memory you held onto, and those memories of her, they weren't happy, the dementors couldn't take them. Every one was tinged with bitter sweetness, with fear, and anguish and pain because their lives were always so precarious, always so dangerous, uncertain. Then knowing you'd never see her again, never get the chance to explain, and she'd die thinking that you'd betrayed her, that it was all a lie, that alone was nearly enough to finish you off, dementors be damned.

You look at her now, and compare her to the picture you've had of her for so long in your mind. She's changed, it should be obvious, but you find yourself caught off guard by the changes. How long has she had those fine lines, the first stage of wrinkles crinkling the corners of her too vivid eyes? They're by her mouth too, just in the corners, you're willing to bet they're not laughter lines, frown lines perhaps but you seriously doubt they have anything to do with laughter, she's had precious little to laugh about and that's your fault, it all is. She's not even thirty four, she shouldn't have wrinkles, not yet, you've done this, marred the beauty of her face, caused premature worry and age lines…and yet these little imperfections don't really mar her beauty as you once so arrogantly thought such lines would ruin any kind of beauty. She's just as beautiful as she ever was, but it's more meaningful now, she's been through hell and back and lived to tell the tale, these marks give testament of that journey, and you love her all the more for them. She seems more real now, less like that eerily perfect statue she always seemed to you to be as teenagers. All that flawless skin and perfect features, always so carefully composed, if not for her eyes, those unnatural eyes, always laughing, and mocking, raging and burning you would have thought her unreal, but now, now you almost feel as though she's mortal, fallible like the rest of you. It makes her seem warmer, which is a paradox since she seems so much colder these days.

Your doing again. How much must your supposed betrayal have destroyed her? You long to ask but it's not appropriate, you don't have the right to ask her questions. You owe her answers, not the other way around, that's how this is supposed to play out. But you know it must have destroyed her, she let so few people in and to have one, the one she trusted most, turn around and betray her along with everything he had ever claimed to believe in, never telling her a word of it, and so soon after loosing her baby sister most have thrown her into despair. You don't know how she survived it, you couldn't have survived the same, you're willing to admit that, but then she always was stronger than you.

She's even stronger now, just as you're weaker, and not just physically, it's a fundamental shift in the balance of power in your relationship and you don't know how you feel about that. You always had the upper hand before, or at least thought you did, and now…now it's clearly no longer the case. Her eyes seem colder, more cynical, even more jaded, if that's even possible, but she's resilient, you'll give her that.

She's tough, but then she'd have to be, she brought up your child alone, had to deal with being the wife of Sirius Black, alone…and she went back to them, her family. That much is obvious; she screams it from every pore, from her impeccable silk violet robes, to the Maycomb crest at her throat, perfect posture and perfect composure. An aristocrat to be proud of.

The only life she ever knew before you, you knew she'd go back, without you she had no reason not to, nothing left for her to hold onto. She always was more circumspect about things than you, so careful not to completely alienate people even while you were doing your damndest to polarise pureblood opinion against you. She was always the cautious one…and though it kills you to admit it she was right, no doubt it was her family (and yours, what's left of it) that saved her, from the Ministry, from the press, from the other Deatheaters. She had her work cut out for her just surviving, but then you never doubted that she would. She's tougher than she looks; you've always known that, even if no one else ever saw it.

You wonder what she sees when she looks at you now, you know you're a wreck, twelve years in Azkaban would do that to anyone. But does she still see that boy you used to be shining through your emaciated mask? Can you two find a way back to each other? You don't know, and the thought that it might be too late terrifies you, what's left for you without her? You still have Harry and Salena to worry about, and of course poor Anne, but what kind of life could you really have without her?

You haven't been complete with out her; it's as simple as that. With all these years between you, all these unalterable changes, this vast gulf separating you, one thing has never and will never change and that is your love for her. She's the other half of your soul, battered and broken though it is now. You hope and pray that she still knows that, even as you see the realisation glittering in her ocean blue eyes, once again alive with feeling, where moments before they had been dead and glum. Perhaps your bond is not as dead as you had thought…

She knows; she still feels it. She sits in silence waiting for you to speak, but no longer is the silence oppressive or cold, now it is tentatively hopeful, almost warm. You can't go back, but perhaps all hope is not lost. Now is the time for explanations, you pray to every deity you've ever heard of and failed to believe in that she will find it in her to understand as you finally open your mouth to speak, her wait has not been in vein…

**Thanks for reading!**

**Please review!**

**XXX**


	4. Salvation Lost: July 1994

**Salvation Lost: July 1994**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except any OCs.**

**Summary: What do you say to the daughter you abandoned? How can you ever make it all right? Sirius Black learns the hard way that sometimes there are things that you just can't fix. You can't go back.**

**Part of 'The Lost Years' series, set in July 1994 just after Sirius escapes the dementors and the Ministry at Hogwarts. Imagine he somehow found a way to reunite with the family he hasn't seen in twelve years, after all the truth has come out, at least to those who matter most, surely the first thing he'd do now is go to find them?**

You don't know what to say to her, this girl you might as well have abandoned. Your daughter…

A girl you haven't seen in twelve years, not since that night, you remember it so clearly…. You heard the news from the Order, old Elphias flooing at two in the morning with a story of untold horror…you couldn't believe it. Lily and James' house destroyed, the dark mark hovering ominously in the sky, a silent testament to what everyone knew must have happened…and you panicked. Wrung every piece of garbled and frantic information out of him that you could then ran to get dressed as though the devil was at your heels, Crystal sleepily at first, and then with rising panic imperiously demanding to know what had happened.

You told her, watched the colour drain from her face and spared no venom as you rushed to grab a jacket. She grabbed you before you could leave, using your own momentum to spin you to face her just as you had done to her so many times before, roles inexplicably reversed.

Now you were holding all the cards and for once she wasn't and some dark Slytherin part of you that you've long tried to suppress, to deny the existence of revelled in it. She was afraid, for the first time you had ever seen her she was truly afraid; she didn't want you to leave. Her eyes were pleading, beseeching, saying what she herself never would, but you didn't falter, you couldn't you owed them that, Lily and James… revenge.

You needed to see for yourself, needed to know, and if it was what it sounded like, was what you couldn't even bear to think then… That rat was going to pay if it was the last thing you ever did and for once there was something more important to you than Crystal. If you were wrong, if you made a mistake and Peter was the spy and not Remus and you were to blame…. You needed to know, it was as simple as that and nothing she could say was ever going to change that. You had already given up everything for her, forsaken your friends for her. She owed you this, this one indulgence, this one unforgivable act when you knew, if this was true the last thing you should have been doing was leaving her, leaving your daughter unprotected. If the worst had happened, that morning could have been a massacre, you might never have seen her again…but part of you didn't care…you had to know.

And for once you saw fear, fear in the unconquerable Crystal Maycomb's eyes, unheard of… not fear of what was coming, but fear of you in those too knowing ocean blue depths. She always could read you far to well. You should have told her then, should have explained it to her before so she'd have some idea of what was happening that night but you didn't. Partly you'd done it to protect her and partly to protect them, its not as though you'd ever envisaged this happening, for all the good that did.

You didn't have the time to waste for words, for explanations that you knew you owed her, knew you needed to give. Hopefully there would be time for that later, but for that moment, every second was vital and you'd already wasted too long in that silent communication. Angrily you spun away from her. You couldn't deal with this and everything else, couldn't deal with her pain as well as your own, her hurt, hurt that you'd caused, you didn't have time!

She wrapped her arms around herself forlornly and you could have sworn you could taste the tang of salt in the air. She knew that something was deathly wrong, just not what. She could tell from the way you were acting, there was more to this than just the death of a few more friends. She was imagining the worst; you knew it. Murdered muggles, genocide, dead friends...all blurring together in a grisly mosaic. You couldn't find the words to tell her what you'd just figured out; it was worse than anything she could have imagined... You longed to take her in your arms and hold her, to kiss away her pain, and somehow wash away your own pain and guilt by doing something useful for someone, but you couldn't. In the years to come, that decision and every other would haunt you.

But you owed it to James, your brother in all but blood, your only brother now that Regulus was dead and she should have understood that! But your anger was misplaced and you knew it even then. She didn't know, you couldn't strike out at her, it wasn't fair. Just as you had lost Regulus, she had lost Abigail, the only sibling she had any real affection for. She knew how you felt, she always did….

But she wasn't a mind reader, and if you wouldn't say then she couldn't help, and you didn't have the time or inclination to get into it then, gods forgive you. You turned to leave, to walk out perhaps forever, but something stopped you, not your frantic wife desperately trying to hold back tears…but Salena. Your daughter… the image of her sweet baby face flashing across your mind, like ambrosia of the gods. You were going out to find the bodies of your murdered friends and their infant son…if that was the case you needed…hope that the world hadn't really gone insane, proof that there was something pure and good worth living for. Something better than the world of fractured truths, shadows and fear that you and Crystal had carved out for yourselves, under the less than friendly gazes of your family.

So you swept up the staircase and into her room and looked at her. Just looked, just for a minute, brushing a downy soft curl off her face, and kissing her tenderly, your day old stubble scratching her delicate baby skin. She didn't wake, you knew it was selfish but you wanted her to, wanted to see her bright blue eyes, so like Crystal's, gazing up at you in innocent wonder, unaware and uncaring about who you were and what that meant. You were and are a Black, a killer if need be and capable of darker deeds than James ever knew, Remus suspected, but you know now only Peter knew the true darkness of your soul. If what you feared had come to pass, there would have been one more body by morning…and everything you'd ever wanted would still have been gone….

That thought almost broke you as you gazed at your tiny daughter, but quashing it down, you let the hate, the anger, the power fill your soul. You pulled the darkness around you like a cloak and swept out of the house to meet your destiny. You were so intent on it so focused that you barely even heard her begging you to stay, begging you to explain. It should have stung you, it was completely out of character, but you didn't listen, you shut down your heart. With a final resounding slam of the front door you grabbed your motorbike and flew away...and all hell broke loose.

You both found what you'd feared the most and what you'd hoped for. James and Lily dead but Harry mercifully alive. You finally realised that perhaps the prophecy had been true after all. It brought little comfort. You knelt by their bodies and wept, tears of joy, of grief…and of rage...and then you pulled yourself together and let the ice fill your heart, let the fury course through your veins.

You'd hoped the ride over would have sobered you up, but the rage, the hatred still burned, your whole nature screamed for vengeance, and you obeyed, obeyed the screaming of your blood. Half in a daze you handed over your bike to Hagrid and let him take poor Harry away. You had other things on your mind. It didn't take long for you to track Peter down, and the rest, as they say, is history. It still galls you to think that he finally managed to win, his first win and your first loss and it had to happen when the stakes were so incredibly high. The universe is a sick and twisted place, no wonder you were laughing when they dragged you away.

Does this girl, this stranger with your blood know that story? She must do, at least the basics, Harry does after all. You look at her and try desperately not to stare. This isn't the baby you left so long ago, that innocence you so cherished has long since fled. You always marvelled that someone like you could make something so innocent, you should have known that the taint of her blood would never have allowed her to stay that way and god knows you didn't help matters. Back then you never let yourself think that way; you had such high hopes for her, such grand dreams. She would be happy, free in a way that you and Crystal never were and you would protect her. It would seem then that you failed her on every level, this girl is hard, jaded…a Black. The one thing you never wanted her to be, to understand, what it means to truly be a part of your family, but she knows.

Her gaze does not flinch as your own, you know, less than friendly gaze interrogates her. She's survived worse and you know it. You want to curse at the world, curse Crystal, what the hell has she turned your precious daughter into? But you know, even without asking. Your gaze would have looked something like this girl's at thirteen. She raised her to be a part of your world. She's a pure blood, an aristocrat, throw her to the sharks and it's the sharks you should be concerned about. You know that, you can tell, but you never wanted this for her. This isn't what you fought so hard to see…but you knew…you knew if Crystal thought you'd betrayed her she'd go back to the only life she'd ever known, the only family she'd ever known and take your daughter with her. She'd always been so careful to never fully burn her bridges, always leaving room for retreat and you knew that. This shouldn't come as such a surprise, and yet it does.

This refined haughty creature in front of you is your daughter. She's beautiful, ethereal, aristocratic, you recognise yourself in her, before Azkaban, the cheekbones, the too proud tilt of the head, the whisper of challenge in the eyes, the smirk which is at once too impulsive and too guarded. She's everything you never wanted her to be and more. You see your pain reflected in those too familiar cerulean eyes, Crystal's eyes. She's just a child…and yet she's not.

Somehow you've managed to miss her entire childhood and come back to a girl on the cusp of womanhood. You know nothing about her, have no idea how to deal with her, and something about her stance, her gaze tells you implicitly that she is never going to forgive you for it. She blames you, not that she shouldn't, who else is there to blame? You were never there; you deserve it though it kills something inside thought long dead to see the smouldering accusation in those jaded depths.

She's seen too much, you know it already, but hadn't you at thirteen? She might as well have lived your life, only her's is worse. She grew up in the shadow of the last war, a generation risen from the ashes growing up with the stigma of a father like you. You don't doubt that she's tough, you can see it, arrogant too, so sure of herself and yet…so afraid. You see the uncertainty; lurking far beneath the cool surface in those too knowing eyes, see the worry, the fear she's trying so desperately to hide. She's good, you'll give her that, better than you ever were at hiding things at thirteen, wearing a mask, but then she's Crystal's daughter too and she always was composed, icy, in control. You know already that she has your impetuousness, your sharp tongue desperate to spit venom and heedless of the consequences, you can see her now swallowing some sarcastic retort as she waits in vein for you to say something. You won't, you don't have the words.

But honestly what can you say? I'm sorry I abandoned you. You know that sorry's not enough, know that she won't accept it but you need to say it, if only to have the words thrown back in your face.

You look away, unable to bear her own frank appraisal of you. The gods only knows what she'll see, Azkaban didn't just break your body it broke your mind too. You don't even want to think about just what horrors she'll be able to divine from your hollow, haunted gaze.

Uncertain she flicks her eyes towards Crystal, unconsciously looking for reassurance about this stranger, this unknown quantity, her father…You flinch, again you shouldn't be surprised, and yet you are. You're strangers and she's little more than a child, a very guarded child but still just a child. Your child, though it sure as hell doesn't feel that way.

You always heard parents speaking about 'bonds' with their children and laughed, you sure as hell never felt one with your parents…but Salena… Salena was different. From the moment she was born you felt it. Unconditional love, devotion unlike anything you'd ever felt before… You expected to feel that again, but all you feel is disconnected, longing and desperation for that closeness to return bubbling beneath the surface, but it won't. It's too late and you both know it.

You feel it pass between you like an electric current, an instinctive understanding, perhaps the only one you will ever share. This relationship is beyond salvation, the years in Azkaban have changed you both and you both know it, you will never have that closeness back again and you mourn its passing…but you can't go back. All you are is two strangers with some blood in common.

You didn't feel this rising despair with Harry, but then he's not your son and you can see James in him, shining so brightly that it almost blinds you. You know how to deal with James' son, but your daughter is another matter… You have no idea how to deal with a teenage girl, no idea how to deal with a reflection of yourself that you never wanted to see again. Gods this is hopeless! You feel it even now, and part of you wants to give up. You aren't that energetic young man anymore ready to take on the world and change everything, you feel a thousand, broken down and old having just watched all hopes of salvation vanish. You changed nothing; you couldn't even change your own daughter, let alone the world.

Yet you can't give up, perhaps there truly is nothing left to save, but does that mean it has to be over? She's still so young, there's still so much time… perhaps something new can be built over the ruins of the old. You know she won't be willing and you're so tired that you're not sure you have the strength to even try. But here you are, together again, yet in every way that matters still apart. You won't let it end like this, you won't let it just be over even if you don't know how to make this right, or even if its possible to do so. Where there is life, there's hope. This isn't finished, not yet.

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	5. Unforgiven: July 1994

**Unforgiven: July 1994**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except any OCs.**

**Summary: What do you say when the Father you've long learned to hate finally returns? Is it too late for forgiveness now that the truth has finally come out?**

**Part of 'The Lost Years' series, set in July 1994 just after Sirius escapes the dementors and the Ministry at Hogwarts. Imagine he somehow found a way to reunite with the family he hasn't seen in twelve years, after all the truth has come out, at least to those who matter most, surely the first thing he'd do now is go to find them?**

He's back.

Somehow you know that should mean something to you, should matter. You should feel some connection to those words, some joy, but you don't.

It echoes around in the hollow places of your soul, but it means nothing. This man is not your father; you will never accept that. You are never going to forgive him. Such forgiveness is too much to ask, even for him and you know he recognises it. Merlin knows he should.

He chose this, made a decision twelve years ago to leave. Chose his dead friends over his still living family, let vengeance for them become more important than you. You are never going to forgive him for that.

In fact this new truth seems worse than the betrayal you long believed to be the truth, because if everything were a lie, you could almost understand that, could almost live with that. You could hate him in peace and feel no guilt because he deserved it, but it's not true, you know that now and somehow you're going to have to find a way to live with it. You almost hate him more now.

It seems almost worse like this, because it was real. He was real, everything was real and it was still destroyed. He chose them over you. You were his daughter; it's you he should have run to, not Harry. And yet he did, not once but twice.

When all hell broke loose it wasn't you he rushed to protect, it was Harry. First on that Halloween all those years ago, and then later when he escaped from Azkaban, it was thoughts of Harry in danger that gave him the strength to escape, not thoughts of you. You shouldn't care, but you do.

You try not to hate him for it, not this man, this stranger, but Harry, the boy you've come to think of as your brother. It's not his fault, you know that, you do, but it's easy to want to blame him when it seems that every time your father runs to him instead of you. You try not to let the fury (not jealousy, never jealousy) taint your soul but know you fail. He's connected to Harry in a way he may never again be connected to you.

He understands Harry, loves him, and that love and understanding is reciprocated so obviously that it's almost nauseating. What does he even need you for anyway when he has Harry? The son you know that he secretly always wanted. Harry won't hold his absence against him because he never knew that he should have been there, but you did, so you will, and he knows it… You can't deal with this! You're only thirteen, and yes, you're a Black, heir to their fortune and all that implies but you're still just a child…and yet not….

A thought that makes you ever more furious, you're thirteen, fourteen in October, can you even really still be called a child? He's missed it, all of it, everything. First day of school, first flying lesson, hell everything after you turned one…and you needed him then. You don't let him see that, try to hide the vulnerability in your eyes but you know…it's true; you needed him.

You needed a father, desperately, someone to protect you, to help you navigate these perilous social waters. You and your mother have had to do that alone all these years, had to deal with the scorn of being linked to him. Had to survive alone and you know...it destroyed her, tore her down inside until she couldn't stand the pain and eventually just shut down altogether. You remember how she was when you were young. Remember listening to her crying as you sat helplessly by her door. He did that, and you hate him for it. That terrified child who sat listening to her mother sob into the darkness still lives in you, and you won't forget, you can't forgive. Nothing he says can ever change that.

He's destroyed her, and in so doing he destroyed you as well, for what use was that broken cold woman to her young daughter, what support could she ever offer you? Especially since all she ever saw when she looked at you was Sirius come back to haunt her. Some days she could barely even stand to look at you, though she tired valiantly to hide it. You never blamed her, it was always just his fault, it was easier that way, less messy but it still hurt. It still wreaked havoc with your psyche, but you tried to see it for what it was, and pull back so that you didn't cause her yet more pain with your presence. More often than not you were left to fend for yourself, left with Anne or Draco who you've always adored…but still you needed a mother too, and because of him you never really got one.

He didn't just destroy his life, he destroyed yours too, and hers. He took away all you ever wanted with just one ill-considered action…and perhaps that's what terrifies you most. You and he aren't so different, you're both too impetuous, too reckless, you know it's one of your worst failings; what if you manage to do it too? The very thought of it terrifies you. You don't want to be like him, you deny that you are viciously every time someone makes the comparison, but you can't lie to yourself. It's what you fear most of all, that you might become like him...and you could, you know it, can feel it, like some horrible prophecy, though perhaps that's your imagination.

So you deny it, deny that it means anything that he's here, now, twelve years later and looking at you as though he's looking upon the face of his salvation…and yet not. Because you know that whatever he's seeing for that first split second it isn't you, it could never be you. You're no one's salvation, you're not that child he left behind and the sooner he realises that the better.

Of course he does and some of the warmth leaves that haunted grey gaze. It happens perhaps almost sooner than you'd like and though you'd deny it to your grave, some part of you you'd thought long dead mourns its passing.

He's interrogating you now, challenging you and part of you wants to flinch, to turn away and not have to look into those broken eyes of a man you are trying so desperately to hate. You owe it to your mother not to feel for him, to yourself too. Yet some long buried part of you does, feels for this skeletal man so recently out of the hell that is Azkaban, wants to recognise that just as you've been living your own worst nightmares so has he, and at least you weren't alone.

You don't look away though; you tilt your head proudly and gaze back at him, all of your self-assurance and confidence flashing in your eyes. He won't win that easily; you won't let him. You can't resist the impulsive smirk that crosses your face though you know you should be more careful. You won't back down, you can't, your pride won't let you.

You don't want to love him, don't want to give him a chance, it's too hard. Hate is easy; it's natural, like breathing. All you've done for twelve long years is hate and you feel safe in that hatred, it's comforting, normal, at least for you. Hate comes easily to the Blacks, it's love that's the challenge, love that's alien, for the Maycombs as well. Family loyalty, that's a given, but love, real love, the kind that asks nothing in return, that's unheard of, at least for you.

But it's not as easy as you thought it would be to hate the man in front of you. He's as broken as any of you, if more obviously so. He isn't the Sirius Black you expected, ridiculous you know, but you expected him to look like the only photos you have of him…but he doesn't. He's not that arrogant young man, so convinced of his own superiority that he would be easy to hate. He's old, looks even older than he really is, and so…lost…because he is isn't he, you know that, it's a good way to put it…he lost everything, his looks, his family, his sanity…

You study his face, compare it with your own, though you already know what you'll see, those razor sharp cheekbones are yours, that defiance you see lying almost dormant in those haunted stormy eyes, that's yours too…or perhaps saying that it's his is a better way to put it. You don't want to admit that, admit that the two of you have anything in common…you don't…and yet you do… Maybe you can't hate him after all…

And with the loss of that hate comes the loss of some of those walls that you spent such long years building. The pain is bleeding into your gaze, the fear, the uncertainty that growing up the way you have has caused. You don't want him to see; yet you can't look away. Like staring into the abyss, the abyss of madness…

But in tandem with your own weakening resolve you see his strengthening one, night and day, ying and yang. Opposites. You see the anger in his eyes, the recognition, the disappointment, the rising distaste for what you've become and suddenly the hate isn't quite so difficult anymore.

You smirk inwardly, he's broadcasting and doesn't even realise it, Azkaban really did destroy his mind…and suddenly you don't know why you find any of this amusing. You shouldn't be able to read him, you know it, he should be like mother, totally impassive, impossible to read, even if he always was too impulsive, but he isn't. He might as well be an open book, though you doubt anyone but a pureblood, or family could read him. That's not good, it's not right! And it's yet another brick in the wall between you.

How can you ever look up to this man? You can't. And you can't deal with the accusation in his eyes. Who is he to accuse you any way? He's the one who left! And if he doesn't like who you've become, well it's his own bloody fault!

You let the fury rise, let it boil your blood and use it to reinforce all those shields you've been building and let your own accusations burn brightly in your eyes. You want him to know what you feel, at least this much.

You know he understands, can see the pain burning in those eyes. He gets it, but then you knew he would. He recognises the mask, and his own part in this drama and you see the scenarios flashing through his eyes. He's lost for words, imagining your life and his own part in your obvious pain. You long to speak, to throw something vitriolic at him, show him just who you've become and how much everything he never wanted has come to pass but you don't, you bite your tongue instead. You won't be the first to speak, if he wants to he'll have to make the first move, he owes you that much, but you know he won't. Yet another let down; yet another brick in the wall.

This man means nothing to you…and everything. Will your life mirror his; are you doomed to his mistakes? Did his life pass him by and will yours do the same? You long to ask, but even if you wanted to speak, the words won't come. This must be what hell feels like, an eternity full of words never spoken and deeds never done. You hate it, you hate all of this and everyone...and yet you don't, to say such a thing would be childish and stupid, two things you can never afford to be. You let the hatred subside.

You turn once again to him and glare back, interrogating him with your eyes. He's done this, destroyed your equanimity and thrown you so completely off balance that you don't even know what you feel anymore, let alone what he feels. He looks away, as if scorched by your anger; can he feel it you wonder?

Frustrated your eyes flick away from him almost of their own volition; you look to your mother. What the hell are you supposed to do now? You don't know him, don't know how to deal with this, you never thought he'd actually come back. Come _here_, now. He must be crazy to risk it; somehow you don't doubt that he is.

He flinches, though you can't imagine why, you're too frustrated to even bother trying to figure it out. What does he want from you? You don't know, honestly you don't even know what you want from him anymore. You don't know him; don't feel any kind of connection to him. He's your father, but what does that really mean? Coldness and distance, like Draco's father, unconditional love, like Remus has for Anne. You don't know. How pathetic is that? Don't even know what it is you've been missing all these years, you knew you wanted something just not what and now that he's here…does it even matter anymore?

You don't need a father, not now; the moment's passed. You're not a child anymore; you don't need him. Don't feel anything real for him, its all just shadows and confusion…and it's hopeless. You can't make up for twelve years in five minutes. You can never make up for twelve years. You aren't the same people anymore; this relationship isn't real though clearly he expects it to be, perhaps you did to. But it's not. You never did have any patience for lost causes.

You catch his eye, your own thoughts practically burning in those crystal depths; the moment crystallizes and stretches until it becomes much more than a moment, and much less. For the first time you're both on the same wavelength. There's no hope left for this relationship and you both know it, recognise it. Perhaps this will be the only understanding you ever share. There's something faintly tragic about that, and yet there isn't. You had your moment once, a long time ago certainly but you had it, and you can't go back. It doesn't work like that. Years have passed and nothing's the same now as it was then. And then he blinks, and the moment's gone as if it never was.

You see his despair, reflecting back at you in his baleful gaze but you don't let it affect you, what's the point? It changes nothing. Perhaps he's sorry. You try to find some comfort in the thought, but can't because if he's sorry, yet all this crap still happened then you don't have anyone to blame and you're not sure you can live like that. Sorry won't make anyone feel better but him; you don't owe him that.

You finally realise that you don't understand him and the silence that follows seems to swallow you both whole. It's not like that other silence, of words unsaid, and thoughts swimming unbidden through two lonely minds. This is different; final. It's over and yet you both know that your journey has only just begun. Together and yet apart, it's oddly appropriate, all things considered. This isn't finished, and yet it is.

**Thanks for reading! **

**Please review!**

**XXX **

**PS For other stories including Sirius' daughter Salena, check out the first chapter of 'The Flipside of the Coin', yet another off shoot of the 'Someone To Understand' universe, amazing how one story I haven't even finished yet can have so much other junk attached to it!**

**In other news as you may have noticed I've recently been reorganising 'Someone To Understand' and its various off shoots since my previous method has been thoroughly confusing and pissing off readers. Sorry for all that, I hope this is slightly less confusing.**


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